Ciá chárfáídh orm Acht stukdh-bhean A cháilín beag na lu^ehra, An léigfá do bheárt Kir lár, Yo An d-Tiocfá liom Ann uaigneas, Foi bhruách ná coille is glúise bláth. Ságáirt ní bh-fKighidh sgeul Kir, Ha Kon neach d' bh-fuil le fázháil, Go d-tiocfaidh cúint do'n chéirreich, A's beurla̸ do'n lon-dubh bhreádh. A cháilín beáz na lu^chrá, Glae suáimhnea̸s A's fán zo réídh, Hí cáil duit a bheith chomh h-uaibhreách, Ann ua̸igneKs K's tu leát féin. Ma schip mé do chuid lu^chrá, Is dual zo bh-fuil cuid tár héis, bkinfeld bínsín buín duit, A's uklách mór már thuille léis. THE LASS OF FAIR FLOWING TRESSES. This is one of the numerous sweet little songs to be found in almost every hamlet throughout the Irish parts of Ireland. With these ancient ballads, and the delightful old Finian Tales, in poetry and prose, the rural Irish are wont to recreate themselves after the toils of the day, when assembled round their village fire sides, they enjoy the only cessation from suffering, which they know, or expect in this life. To these productions, our gentry, except, perhaps, some few aboriginal families, are almost entirely strangers. From this class of society they have been banished to the cottages of the poor, where they have been preserved, with a sort of religious veneration, as relics of Ireland's better days. "I heard an old Irish air sung," says Trotter, in his Walks through Ireland, "with Irish words, by an Irish woman; it was mournfully and remarkably melodious, sung very slow, and with astonishing and true pathos; it appealed powerfully to the heart." Nothing can be more correct than this description. It shews of what rich feasts of sentimental poetry and music, political prejudice and religious bigotry have hitherto deprived their infatuated votaries in Ireland.* * Even our national musical instruments, the harp and bagpipe, seem to have been considered as part of the paraphernalia of popery. In one of the first earl of Cork's noted protestant eyries, Bandon, a poor wandering minstrel, has lately been severely beaten, and had his bagpipe broken to pieces. The unlucky wight ventured to play in that town, contrary to an ancient standing rule of the corporation; and he was thus treated for annoying the orthodox ears of the protestant inhabitants with his native papistical tunes. Were these bigots apprehensive that the charms of Irish music would "sooth their savage breasts?" This song, or, perhaps more properly speaking, ode to music, which is now for the first time printed, was composed by David Murphy, a poor dependant of Theobald, fourth viscount Mayo, a nobleman who first sat in the Irish house of peers on 14th May, 1661. It was composed in the hall of Castleburke, a baronial mansion, now in ruins, near Castlebar, in the county of Mayo. The music which is well known, and much admired, was the production of Thady Keenan, a harper, with whom the venerable Charles O'Conor was acquainted early in the last century. In Walker's memoirs of the Irish Bards, will be found an interesting account of both bards, from the pen of his anonymous and excellent correspondent. They have in the west of Ireland a favorite song, often mistaken for this ode, known by the name of Condke Mhaigheó, County of Mayo," and sometimes as "The lament of Thomas Flavell," having been composed by a bard of that name, a native of the island of Bophin, on the western coast. It is only remarkable for being combined with one of our sweetest native melodies-the very soul of plaintive Irish music. The words are here given, with a hope, that they may lead to the preservation of the air :- condaе MHAIGH EO. Is Air An lóing so pháidí la̸óínse do ghním-se An dubrón, Az ornadh anns an oidhche Agus Kg síor-zhul 's an ló Munk m beidh zur dalladh m' íntle<cht A's me a̸ bh-fa̸d om' mhuintir, dar máirea̸n! is máith A cháoinfinn-se cond ́e Mhaigheó, Un uáir & mháir mo cháirde budh bhreádh mo chuid óir, d'oláinn lionn Spáineách i g-comhluadár bán óg, Muna m-beith fíor-ól ná g-cártá 'Y An dlígh bheith ro láidir, Hí K' Yanticrús d' fágfáinn mo chnámhá fa̸'n bh-fód. Ta zádáidhnídh na h-a̸ite so a̸g eiríghea̸d ro mhór Po chnotadha a's fo háir bág gán trácht a̸ir bhuclAdha bróz; da máirfeadh dámh-sa̸ An iáruil dhéanfainn diobh ciánách,. Munk m-beich zur tházáir dia dhám ‹ bheith g-ciántáibh fá bhrón. da m-beidh Padruig lochláinn 'ná iárla̸ Kir iKrúil go fóil, Brián dubh a chliámháin 'na thigheárná áir Dhuśchmór, Alodh dubh Mac Grikda 'a chornéal a z-CliKra, Is An sin bheidh mo thriúll-sá go condée Mháízheó. 2 66 By each blessed bell that's there,”— Consecrated bells were formerly held in great reverence in Ireland, particularly before the tenth century. Cambrensis in his. Welch Itinerary, says, "Both the laity and clergy in Ireland, Scotland, and Wales, held in such great veneration portable bells, and staves crooked at the top, and covered with gold, silver, and brass, and similar relics of the saints, that they were much more afraid of swearing falsely by them, than by the gospels, because, from some hidden and miraculous power, with which they were gifted, and the vengeance of the saint, to whom they were particularly pleasing, their despisers and transgressors are severely punished."-Hoare's translation of the Itinerary of Giraldus, London 1805, p. 31. Miraculous portable bells were very common, Giraldus speaks of the Campana fugitiva of O'Toole, chieftain of Wicklow; and Colgan relates, that whenever Saint Patrick's portable bell tolled, as a preservative against evil spirits and magicians, it was heard from the Giant's Causeway to Cape Clear, from the Hill of Howth to the Western Shores of Conamara, "per totam Hiberniam."-Colgan. In Triade, p. 103. Evinus who wrote before the tenth century, says, "Saint Ciaran's portable bell still exists, and is held in high veneration, and carried round to the assemblies of princes, to protect the poor, and to raise contributions for his monastery."- Vita Antiq. Ciarini in Actis SS. p. 458. This veneration for bells appears to have been preserved unabated, from the days of Saint Patrick to those of our bard.-See Doctor O'Conor's Appendix to Cat. Stowe MSS. p. 30. It was found difficult to procure a perfect transcript of the present ode. My first copy proved incomplete, and indeed little better than a fragment, but this I did not discover until after Mr. Furlong had versified it. Although his translation of the complete copy is contained in the text, yet I am induced to preserve his previous version of the fragment; and do so as I think, with the suffrage of every reader of taste : No more in sad suspense I'll pine, No longer droop in lingering woe- |